Rules of Engagement: The Reasons for Marriage. Stephanie Laurens

what you will of me, my dear, but allow me to remove these, before they obscure your very pretty eyes.”

      Before she could react, Eversleigh had whipped her fogging spectacles from her nose, dropping them on the desk behind him.

      Stifling a squeak of sheer outrage, Lenore blinked furiously up at him.

      A slow smile was her reward. “A great improvement.” For an instant, the silver gaze roamed her face in open appreciation before, with a last unnerving glance at her lips, Jason returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Permit me to inform you, Miss Lester, that, unlike the majority who have visited here, I am neither blind nor gullible. That being so, I wish to know why you insist on purposely hiding your charms.”

      In the face of such an attack, there was nothing to do but fight back. “My charms, as you are pleased to call them, are my own, I believe? If it pleases me to keep them hidden, then who has any right to gainsay me?” Lenore felt distinctly pleased with that piece of logic.

      “There are many, Miss Lester, who would maintain that a beautiful woman is created for the enjoyment of men. How do you answer the charge of short-changing half the population?”

      “I am not on this earth to pander to the whims of men, my lord.” Head back, eyes flashing, Lenore felt her temper take hold. “Indeed, I’ve discovered that by avoiding the complications engendered by the male of the species, it is tolerably easy to live a calm and well-ordered life.”

      Eversleigh’s eyes narrowed.

      Abruptly realising that she had said too much, Lenore temporised, “That is …”

      “No.” The single syllable stopped her, drying her stumbling words at source. “I think I see the light.”

      To her consternation, Eversleigh leaned closer, his narrowed eyes casting a silver net she could not escape. He loomed over her, around her; never in her life had she felt so helpless.

      His eyes searched hers. “You don’t wish to marry.” The words were enunciated slowly, quietly, but were all the more definite for that. “You hide your delights beneath heavy cambric and hope no one will see enough to be interested.”

      Lenore wished she could shake her head but Eversleigh’s compelling gaze prevented prevarication. She summoned a glare. “I see no reason why any man should be interested in me, Your Grace.”

      The reaction to that was not what she had hoped. A slow smile twisted Eversleigh’s lips. He shifted, bringing one large hand up to take a large pinch of her clothing, just above the yoke of her gown. Deliberately, he gave the material a brisk twitch, back and forth.

      Lenore’s shocked gasp filled the room. Her eyes flew wide at the excruciating sensation of her gown shifting over her tightened nipples. Horrified, she batted his hand away.

      “Permit me to inform you, Miss Lester, that you have a severely proscribed understanding of the basis of male interest. I suggest you extend your studies before you come to any conclusions.”

      “As I have no intention of marrying, I have absolutely no interest in such topics, Your Grace!”

      Her declaration focused Eversleigh’s attention dramatically. His penetrating gaze bored into her eyes, his expression hardened. Flushed, Lenore held her own, but she could see nothing in the steel of his eyes to give her any clue to his thoughts.

      Then, to her considerable relief, he straightened, his hands dropping to his side.

      “Miss Lester, has it occurred to you that you have been much indulged?”

      Lenore drew breath, determined to keep her chin up. “Indeed, Your Grace. My father and brothers are most supportive.”

      “They have been slack, Miss Lester.” Without warning, he caught her chin on the edge of one large hand, keeping her face turned up to his. The grey eyes once more roamed her features. Lenore could not breathe. His expression was stern, almost forbidding. “Your father and brothers have not done their duty by you. A woman of your intelligence and beauty is wasted outside marriage.”

      “That is not my opinion, Your Grace.”

      “I am aware of that, my dear. We shall have to see what can be done to change it.”

      Paralysed, Lenore stared up at him. Startled conjecture vied with a strange, breathless, senseless yearning, a panoply of thoughts and sensations buffeting her brain. She could think of nothing to say.

      The door opened.

      “Oh! Excuse me, Miss Lenore, but I’ve come to do the menus.”

      Twisting her chin from Eversleigh’s grasp, Lenore peeked around him and saw her housekeeper, Mrs. Hobbs, standing uncertainly in the doorway. “Er … yes. Lord Eversleigh and I were just examining the lock of this cupboard. It was stuck.” With a warning glance at Eversleigh, Lenore turned towards her desk.

      “Ah, well,” said Mrs. Hobbs, ambling forward, a large bundle of old menus and receipts clutched to her ample bosom. “I’d better get John to take a look at it, then.”

      “No, no. It’s working now.” Lenore cast a desperate glance at Eversleigh, praying he would behave himself and depart.

      To her relief, he swept her a graceful bow. “I’m pleased to have been of assistance, my dear. If you have any other difficulties that are within the scope of my poor abilities to cure, pray feel free to call on my talents.”

      Lenore’s eyes narrowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

      Jason smiled, his wolf’s smile, and turned to the door. On the threshold, he paused, glancing back to see Lenore close her account book and lay it aside, then draw a pile of menus towards her.

      “Miss Lester?”

      Lenore looked up. “Yes, Your Grace?”

      A long finger pointed at the corner of her desk. “Your spectacles, my dear.”

      Swallowing a curse, Lenore grabbed the delicate frames and arranged them on her nose, then glanced up, but her tormentor had gone.

      “Now. For lunch I’d thought to have …”

      Stifling a wholly unexpected sigh, Lenore gave her attention to Mrs. Hobbs.

      An hour later, she was staring out of the window, her account book open before her, the ink dry on her nib, when Amelia’s head appeared around the door.

      “There you are! I’d despaired of finding you.”

      Lenore returned her cousin’s bright smile, laying aside her pen as Amelia crossed the room to subside into the armchair before the desk in a froth of apricot muslin. “I take it last evening passed without incident?”

      Amelia waved the question aside. “You were right. They’re a perfectly manageable lot. All except Eversleigh. I wouldn’t care to have to manage him. But His Grace had taken himself off somewhere. Truth to tell, I retired early myself.” She turned to look at Lenore. “I looked for you but couldn’t find you anywhere.”

      Lenore shut her account book with a snap. “I was detained on the terrace.”

      “Oh? By what?”

      “A discussion of the relative merits of present and past civilisations, as I recall.”

      Amelia grimaced. “One of your dry discussions, I take it?”

      Calmly sorting her papers, Lenore did not respond.

      “Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know I took care of one of your hostessly chores for you.”

      “Oh?”

      “The Melton sisters. They had quite worn down poor Mr. Marshall; I had to rescue him. And that reminds me.” Amelia swung about, bright brown eyes dancing. “I’ve discovered why Eversleigh’s here!”

      Lenore’s hands stilled. “Why?” she asked,